


Happy Holidays

by resonae



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonae/pseuds/resonae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint had never had a proper Christmas, but this year he had the Avengers. </p><p>Except now he was stuck in a mission. Great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Holidays

Clint had never had a proper Christmas. His alcoholic father – along with poverty – kept him from one when he was a child, and then the orphanage and circus weren’t exactly the friendliest place. By the time he got to SHIELD, it wasn’t as if he had anyone to celebrate it with, so he’d just shrugged it off. Sometimes Coulson got him a small present, and sometimes he and Natasha went out to eat dinner, but that was about it.

 

But now he had the Avengers. He’d bought presents, and watched YouTube videos on how to wrap them all nicely. He’d stowed them all under his bed, and had even looked forward to decorating the tree because Tony had talked about getting one for their common floor.

 

He’d taken the mission because it was supposed to be an easy in-and-out. Get in, make the hit, get out. It had seemed simple enough.

 

Until the part about the grossly miscalculated backup. His right shoulder was definitely dislocated, and his left eye was swelled shut, not to mention he was bleeding and bruised everywhere. He gritted his teeth and stared at the remains of his earpiece that had been crushed under one of the men’s shoes, knowing Sitwell had enough time to track him before things well to shit. It’d just be a matter of time before they came and got him.

 

He didn’t have to wait long, although ‘not long’ meant a couple more cigarette burns on his arm. “Fuck,” he cursed, when Sitwell cut him free with a low curse. “I better not miss Christmas, Sitwell.”

 

He didn’t hear Sitwell’s reply. He was too busy passing out.

 

\--

 

He woke up not to the proverbial white ceiling but a rather familiar one. He blinked and tested the bed – it wasn’t the hard, uncomfortable ones of the medbay, but the familiar plush of Tony’s bed. “Hey.” A voice said, and he looked up. “Hey, you’re awake.”

 

“What day is it?” Clint demanded, his voice scratchy. “How long was I out for? Why was I out for so long?”

 

It was Bruce who answered. “You had a _stomach_ wound. The bullet was laced with some sort of thinner, so you lost a lot of blood, not to mention that you had a lot of injury. We got you out of medical. But if you’re going to misbehave and start getting up and around again, I’m signing you back in.”

 

Clint looked frantically around. He grabbed Tony’s cell phone and his face fell when he saw the date. “It’s the 26th.” He said, his voice flat. “I missed Christmas.”

 

“You were up for some of it, actually,” Thor said. “But you were mostly incoherent with fever.”

 

Clint threw Tony’s phone to the foot of the bed and didn’t even look where it landed. He curled up under the blanket, feeling stupid and childish. He was making a big deal out of missing _Christmas_. But he’d really looked forward to it. He thought about the perfectly wrapped presents under his bed and felt even dumber, and not even Tony’s hand stroking his hair made him feel better.

 

\--

 

He was determined not to miss New Year’s, at least, so he was up and moving by the next day despite Bruce’s protests. (Protests that were quickly shushed by Tony, who was determined to let Clint have _everything_.)

 

“How was Christmas?” He asked Natasha. He was resting his head on his lap as she peeled apples for him with deadly precision.

 

“Well, we thought you were supposed to be back by the 24th, so all of us were already worried.” She handed him a piece. “And by 2AM on the 25th, we got the call that you’d been taken hostage, so of course we all reported to SHIELD and Tony threatened to blow something up if we didn’t know where you were. But thankfully Sitwell had you by 5.”

 

“They still had you for over three hours, though,” Bruce said, frowning lightly as he took the piece Natasha handed him. “When we got you, it was about noon. You were in and out of consciousness for a while. You worried us _sick_.”

 

Clint grumbled, “It wasn’t my fault.” The fact that he’d caused all of the other Avengers to miss out on Christmas didn’t make him feel any better. It made him feel even worse, if possible. “Where’re Cap and Thor and Tony?”

 

“Right here.” Steve grunted, from the door, and Clint looked up. And found Thor wrestling a huge tree into the common floor. Steve was holding piles of boxes holding colorful _things_ , and Tony himself was pushing in a couple. Clint stared, and Steve smiled as he put the boxes down. “You didn’t think we’d do Christmas without you, right?”

 

Tony put his own boxes down, and Clint saw that they were baubles and other Christmas ornaments. “I haven’t figured out how to control time, but who the hell cares, right? From now on, I declare December 27th Avenger-Day. It’ll be like Christmas. I bet if we push hard enough, we can actually get it to be a holiday. I mean, we saved the world, right?” Tony pushed around the boxes. “Red for Natasha, gold for me. Purple for Clint, green for Bruce, blue for Cap, and silver for Thor. Did you know that our colors overlap too much? I mean, except Clint and Bruce, we’re all like… red and blue and gold. Thor has a bit of silver on his armor, so I just made deal with that, but _still_. Also do you know how difficult it is to get purple Christmas ornaments? People just don’t make ‘em purple.”

 

Clint opened a box that Tony slid his way to find it packed full of purple ornaments. Bruce rolled his eyes. “Don’t overdo it, all right? You need to heal up.” But he was already hanging green snowflakes onto the tree Thor and Steve had set up.

 

Tony grinned when Clint reached for him. “Tony, you didn’t have to.” He whispered, fumbling with a purple ball.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I know I didn’t _have_ to. But it’s your first Christmas that you’re celebrating. I wanted you to have the best that you could.” He squeezed Clint’s hand and kissed his cheek. “I love you, yeah? Everything I do to make you happy is because that makes _me_ happy.” He flicked Clint’s cheek. “Don’t overdo yourself, though. You’re still hurt.”

 

“And don’t let Tony take all the credit.” Natasha snorted. “It was Steve’s idea to surprise you, Clint. And it’s Thor’s first Christmas, too. Bruce helped him shop.”

 

Bruce shrugged. “I actually had fun. Thor’s a great shopper. People can’t push him around because he’s so big.” He smiled and took the purple snowflake from Clint’s hand when he tried to reach high up, and then paused. “I don’t think we should put green and purple together. Looks kind of like… poison.”

 

Steve chuckled at that and put the purple snowflake higher. There was idle chatter as they laughed and decorated. At the end, most of the upper branches were blue and silver where Thor and Steve could reach easily, followed by the green and gold from Bruce and Tony, and then purple where Clint had been forced to decorate while sitting. Natasha’s red was all over the tree, distributed evenly as she flittered all over. It was over-decorated, really, with lights clumped unevenly and tinsel thrown on wherever there was space. It looked like a bunch of 10 year olds had thrown paint on a green canvas.

 

Clint loved it to pieces.

 

“Well, I don’t know why Pepper even hires those professional tree designers,” Tony said, admiring it from a few steps back. “ _Obviously_ we do it better.”

 

Steve laughed. “I like it. It looks really festive.”

 

Thor nodded in solemn agreement. “This is magnificent! But I was told we need something on top.”

 

“Ah, yeah. A star. I got one.” Tony reached into his seemingly empty box and pulled out a large star. Clint stared, and Tony winked. “Clint thought ahead and got us one.” He handed the star over to Thor, who eagerly perched it on the top. “And now to put presents under the tree!”

 

Clint slid up to Tony. “How’d you know I had a star?”

 

Tony glanced at Natasha, who smirked. “A little spider told me.”

 

\--

 

Dinner was even more chaotic. Bruce and Clint were easily the best cooks of the group, and Thor and Tony undoubtedly the worst. Bruce ended up shooing them out of the kitchen and designating them as taste-testers.

 

“I _can’t_ be bad at cooking,” Tony grumbled sullenly as he took a piece of chicken from Clint. “It’s just _chemistry_. This doesn’t make sense.” Natasha rolled her eyes. She had flour on her cheeks. And in her hair. And on her ears. Steve was pretty much covered head-to-toe in flour. Tony eyed them and said, “The difference in the level between the top tier and middle tier is way too big.”

 

Natasha glared. “I don’t think the bottom tier has the right to say anything.” She dusted flour off from her hands. “Clint, _I_ should be helping Bruce, and you should be working with Steve. This doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Clint looked up from tasting his batter. “I’m not helping Bruce,” he blinked. “Bruce and I are doing our own things. How else do you think we’re going to get this going?”

 

Steve laughed, defeated. “I don’t think there’s a middle tier. It’s more like the top tier, and then we’re the bottom. And then Tony and Thor are just abysmal.” He clapped Thor on the shoulder. It left a hand-shaped flour print, but Thor just laughed in agreement. 

Tony ended up teaming up with Thor in an attempt to prove Steve wrong – and set the fish on fire. “Jesus,” Bruce said, waving a hand in front of his face even though JARVIS had sucked up all the smoke. “Tony, Thor, don’t touch _anything_. That was good fish that you just burnt into coal.”

 

Clint just laughed, looking delighted. At one point, Steve had accidentally spilled flour all over everyone, and Clint was covered in flour from his left shoulder down to his stomach. “We all need a shower,” Tony concluded, looking down at his own soot-covered clothes.

 

“What are you talking about?” Natasha smiled, flicking a piece of pie crust dough in his direction. It stuck on his shirt. “I think we need a full-on decontamination shower.”

 

\--

 

Bruce and Clint did end up cooking everything on the table, starting from the chicken-that-was-big-enough-to-be-a-turkey and ending at the huge slices of Bruce-specialized-ham. Natasha had managed the golden bread (although most of it was really Clint), and Steve had followed Bruce’s instructions for a decent gravy. Thor and Tony’s charred fish – or what Bruce had managed to salvage out of the fish – also went up on the table.

 

But what Tony was _really_ looking forward to was the cupcakes that Clint had put into the oven right before they went to eat dinner. He kept glancing its way until Clint kicked him from under the table. Dinner was loud, mostly because of Thor and slightly because no one could stop laughing and smiling. Clint was pressed to Tony’s side. “This,” he told Tony, “is exactly what I wanted.”

 

\--

 

Clint’s cupcakes were devoured in about 10 seconds flat, and then they decided to do presents. Clint’s presents were wrapped neatly in gold-and-silver paper and silky blue ribbons. “Man,” Steve said, “I feel bad opening these. They look so beautiful. I just put mine in bags.”

 

“They need to be donated to MoMA. Or maybe the Met.” Tony said, holding his up and examining it. “I think they’ll take it if we name it something abstract. Like ‘The Hawk’s Gift’, or something. Did you maybe take up professional gift wrapping? Is that required to be a secret agent? Because Nat’s gifts are pretty amazing, too.”

 

Natasha’s were wrapped in red-and-gold wrappers, tied together with silver ribbons that were getting glitter all over the place. Clint had one on his lap. Thor considered the one he was holding and said, “Perhaps we can name them, ‘The Hawk and the Spider’s Gift’.”

 

No one was really sure of Thor got the joke, so Bruce carefully opened Clint’s gift, minding the tape and ribbons and setting them aside. Inside was an earthy package, and Bruce pushed the top open to reveal cases of tea leaves. “Actually, it’s a part of confiscated goods from this super rich guy we apprehended,” Clint confessed. “But I asked Coulson and he actually said yes, so it’s totally legitimate. I had to fill out like twenty forms. Reason: Gift to Dr. Banner to reign in the Hulk. Sounds pretty good, huh?”

 

Bruce chuckled. “Thanks, Clint. They smell soothing already.”

 

Natasha got a pair of custom daggers. Steve stared. “Should we be concerned that Natasha is adding onto her already prolific collection of deadly weapons?”

 

Natasha looked pleased. “I could kill whoever I set my mind to even without weapons, Cap. Clint, are these from your makers?”

 

“Yup, I tracked him down and begged him to make two more.” Clint flashed her a grin. Natasha hummed, sounding satisfied, and sheathed them neatly.

 

Steve got a set of watercolors that had more colors than Clint could count (and had also cost Clint an arm and a leg), and Thor got a long, slender ornamental knife that he swung around immediately in delight. “This is gorgeous!” Thor exclaimed, swinging it again. Bruce winced when it sliced the air above his head. “I will hang it on my wall.”

 

“Yeah, comes with wall mounts. But it actually is a weapon.” Clint nudged the wall mounts to him, and Thor enthusiastically tore the wrappers on the mounts with the exact opposite finesse that Bruce had unwrapping his.

 

Tony opened his last, and Clint swallowed thickly, wondering if Tony would like it. Soon, the unwrapped present lay open on his lap. “I didn’t want to buy you anything.” Clint explained quickly. “Since you have all the money in the world to buy whatever you want. So I made them.”

 

“You made this?” Tony repeated, picking up one of the carved wooden birds. Clint had carefully packed everything he’d ever whittled since he started to date Tony, earlier in the year. It was almost a year’s worth of small wooden figures, things he’d carved during missions.

 

“Yeah, like… Things I made. Thinking of you.” Clint muttered, his ears flushing red. Tony picked up another piece – it was a small chess king piece. He’d kind of been proud of it, but now that he was looking at it, it looked stupid. “Wait, this is stupid. I’ll just buy you something-“ He reached for it, but Tony snatched the box back. “Tony?”

 

Tony was grinning. “Oh, you’re not getting this back. This is pretty damned amazing.” He put the king down and picked up a wooden rose. “ _Fuck_ , this is amazing detail. Yeah, I’m keeping these.”

 

A sharp whistle snapped their attention back to the room. Natasha rolled her eyes. “We’re still here, you know. _And_ we have presents left to unwrap.”

 

\--

 

Clint carried an armful of presents back up to his floor, grinning like an idiot. He was _happy_. He felt stupid, and a little immature, being so happy about presents, but still.

 

Steve had gotten him a smoothly carved recurve bow. It looked simple to the untrained eye, but it was perfectly weighed, its body smooth and curved perfectly for Clint’s hands. Clint was already in love.

 

Thor had gotten everyone presents from _Asgard_. Clint’s own present was a golden arrow, meant to be decorative and not to be used as a weapon. Thor had apologized that it was just one, and then again because he couldn’t shoot it, but Clint wasn’t complaining. He had an arrow made of _solid gold_. It was currently sitting in the glass case Thor had wrapped.

 

Bruce had presented him with a set of arrows he’d worked on himself. Even though he pretended like physics was more Tony’s expertise and not his, Clint had shot a few and found they flew faster and more accurately than arrows Tony usually made. (Not that he’d tell Tony this. He’d probably tell Bruce in secret.)

 

Natasha gave him a sword. It was the same rapier Clint had spent almost their entire Metropolitan visit gaping at. Natasha swore she’d pulled a lot of strings to just make a replica that was the exact same with the same material. Clint really hoped that it was just a replica, and she hadn’t broken into the Met to steal a historical artifact. Because that seemed like something Nat might do.

 

Tony had given him a collar. Clint still had yet to figure out what it was. Natasha and Bruce had thought it was supposed to be something kinky (Steve blushed like a tomato when he figured out what they were talking about), but it wasn’t really a kinky sex collar.

 

A laugh took him out of his concentration. He looked up to find Tony holding a box. “Still can’t figure it out?” He took the collar from Clint hand and instead handed him a box. Clint frowned and flipped the top open.

 

A border collie puppy stared up at him. It yipped when he blinked. Clint looked up to Tony, who was smiling like an idiot, and then down back at the dog. It yipped again, so he reached down to pick it up. “How do you like her?”

 

“Holy crap, Tony.” Clint said, as the collie licked him all over on the chin. “ _Tony_ ,” he said again, when Tony handed him the collar.

 

“I adopted her.” Tony said, ruffling the dog’s head. “Her name’s Lucky. What do you think?”

“She’s _beautiful_.” Clint laughed when Lucky fell onto his lap, wriggling around and yawning. Tony chuckled and leaned over to kiss him. Lucky whimpered when they ignored her for too long, and Clint broke the kiss to ruffle her behind the ears.

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Maybe getting you a dog was a mistake?” He snickered. “You’re paying it attention over me?”

 

Clint elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up.” He laughed. “Thanks, Tony. For Lucky. For all this. Just. I love you.”

 

Tony laughed again, warm. Clint had never had a fireplace, but he imagined that’s what it felt like, listening to Tony’s laugh. “I love you too, baby. Merry Christmas.”


End file.
